Carl's Bane (Rise of November)
by Mario.E.Perez
Summary: The side of Carl Grimes that has never been seen. A story of horror, isolation, and despair, this is a rewritten version of my self-published novel titled "Rise of November". There is only seven chapters in my story, one for each day of the week, however I will be submitting small portions of the story as different chapters titled appropriately. (Originally in 1st person POV) Enjoy
1. Day 1 8:00am

**8:00 a.m.** and the sound of my alarm rings impatiently as he staggers out of bed. It's a Monday, and he has to be at work in an hour. May not seem early to others, but for someone like Carl, it's early if the clock still reads "a.m."

After taking a shower he stops to comb his hair and feels a stillness in the air. Carl's parents have always left for work before him, but today it seems as though the house has been vacant for years.

The weather outside appears cold while looking out through his bedroom window. Such that he puts on his black leather jacket over his navy blue scrub top while heading out the door.

Thin purple clouds stretch across the sky like fingers as he approaches his blue Hyundai. Their arrival brings about a sense of gloom to the already brooding day. Carl soon notices that his parents' cars are parked at the house. He stops to wonder if they're still at home, but quickly realize that it's now twenty till nine and he's already running late.

While hauling ass to work he thanks God that traffic is good to him today, as there are no cars to be found up ahead. Granted, the back roads to his job are through a few vineyards, which have always proven peaceful with little traffic. But today, the drive seems desolate.

While breaking the sound barrier at about ten miles over the speed limit, he suddenly comes to the only stop sign on the two-way road. His abrupt stop causes his body to slightly pull forward. Its subtle jolt forces Carl to catch his breath as he lights his first cigarette of the day.

Before driving off, he takes notice to a white broken-down truck off to the right side of his lane. Smoke steadily steams from underneath its cracked hood as his gaze becomes drawn towards movement. From the bed of the truck, an elderly man slowly climbs out and approaches. His right foot drags across the dirt while pacing towards Carl, the blank expression on his face making it unclear who he's addressing.

It is now five till nine, and Carl have no time to help this poor bastard, so he makes haste and speeds past him. The old man quickly grows smaller and smaller in the distance. His body sways and fades through the rearview mirror as Carl drives away.

While still feeling lucky that traffic was good to him today, Carl pulls into his regular parking spot and finally arrives at work. "Animal Care Clinic" is lit up in big blue letters that reflect off his mirrors. The sign's very image causes him to cringe, yet he finds comfort in seeing that its doors remain locked.

**9:06 a.m.** and Carl's relieved to see that he's the first person to show up to work, an unusual development given the current circumstances. As he steps out of his car, he takes a deep breath and quickly makes his way inside, thinking of how well the day has gone so far.

The air feels stagnant within the clinic. Like it did in his house earlier today, a feeling of desertion now surrounds Carl. Its aura comes at him in waves and feels more sterile than usual; a sensation he's grown used to, yet suddenly find unsettling. While making his rounds, Carl turns on the lights and proceeds towards the treatment area. Its section resides past a small lobby and adjacent exam rooms.

He keeps himself busy as he now prepares for the day, bringing in the lab box, clearing out the rooms, booting up the computers, and running calibrations on the in-house lab equipment. All while staying efficient to things that should have already been done. A routine he's grown accustomed to as he finally open the door towards treatment.

A sudden smash of metal is heard as Presley, an eleven-year-old Australian shepherd with pancreatitis, growls and barks at Carl through his cage. Startled, he staggers back and takes a hard look at the dog, shocked by its recent aggressive behavior.

He came from a good family, loving and caring. They always brought him in for routine vaccines and checkups, along with the occasional ear infection. He was a very friendly dog… almost too friendly, who loved to play and was a pain in the ass to hold still while drawing blood.

As he continues to snarl, Carl realizes that taking him out for a walk is out of the question. His limits, however few, have never subjected him to stupidity. After finally remembering to clock into work, Carl slowly begins to pull Presley's IV line through his cage.

All while trying not to get bitten.

**9:20 a.m.** and no one has yet to arrive at work, oddly enough the phones haven't rung either.

As Carl begins to draw up some Cimetidine to administer through Presley's IV, he stops to glance at Snowball, a white, six-month-old cat that was spayed and declawed two days ago. While growling and hissing, she stands in the corner of her cage, her eyes cautiously fixed to his every move.

Ten minutes now pass and Carl's still alone at the clinic. He can't help but question if he has the day off, as he heads towards the lobby and passes the doctor's office. Dr. Creswal Kibbs is the boss and the owner of the practice. He's always late, yet his absence is also unsettling.

Before Carl can even reach for the door, Presley begins to freak out again while trembling and foaming at the mouth. At first, Carl assumes that he is having another one of his seizures, yet at the same time the damn dog is staring him down while frantically trying to escape.

This isn't normal. Even though he seems to be convulsing, Carl can tell by Presley's eyes that he retains focus and will attack at the first chance he gets.

Now worried Carl rushes to a nearby phone and give Dr. Kibbs a call, but there's no answer.

Three minutes pass and he repeatedly tries to reach Dr. Kibbs while keeping a close eye on Presley, but there's still no answer. The ruckus the dog makes has become an extreme annoyance and now puts the cat on edge. In the middle of Presley's cries and Snowball's growls, Carl suddenly stops to hear the subtle ringing of Dr. Kibbs's cell phone within his office.

Relieved that he's not alone, Carl shouts for the doctor. His anticipation, although built, does not mask his nerves from the sight of the doctor's door left slightly open.

Vomit rushes and fills the top of Carl's throat at what lies before him. Unable to swallow it all down, he regurgitates its lingering remains onto the floor. Panic hits him in more ways than one as he stands in horror at the sight of Dr. Kibbs's dead body, his cell phone alerting him of missed calls on the floor. The doctor's corpse lies slouched upon his chair, and by the looks and smell of him, it seems as though he has been dead for a while.

Carl closes his eyes and opens them in hopes that he's dreaming, yet the doctor is still there. Each time revealing the man he once knew in his expired and decrepit state. Yet there are no wounds present, a mysterious cause of death as Dr. Kibbs merely lies there, as if sleeping. He now can't help but question what might have happened here, of what might have gone wrong.

Ten minutes pass and there is still no sign of any other staff members. Carl begins to wonder if they are responsible for the doctor's demise. While still shaking at the sight of the body, he frantically picks up the phone and calls 911 again, but the line keeps ringing.

His mind can't comprehend the dilemma he's in, but he have to do something. Death is one thing that Carl has grown accustomed to during his years of working with Dr. Kibbs. He's seen many creatures die expectedly and unexpectedly, willing and unwillingly, yet this is different.

He wasn't properly trained for this.

Carl grows frustrated and angry after repeated attempts to call 911. Their lack of cooperation prepares him to transport the body himself.

Then he sees it.

Presley now stands calmly in his cage, no longer barking or trying to escape, but waiting patiently. Thick strings of blood drip down from his mouth and form a puddle near his paws, congealing with the strands of hair and shards of teeth from his recent struggle. A mixture of blood, urine, and diarrhea now cover the poor dog and his cage. Carl takes notice to his blood-shot eyes and soon realizes that he is no longer paying attention to him, but to something behind him.

With a reluctantly and sense of dread Carl turns and comes face-to-face with Dr. Kibbs, suddenly becoming paralyzed. The brief ten seconds that pass seems to last minutes as he now stands upright and stares directly at Carl. His eyes are blood-shot as well and replace all trace of color. A rotten smell of dead flesh and blood creeps from his mouth and begins to make Carl's eyes water.

All the terror he now feels becomes unimaginable as Dr. Kibbs suddenly reaches out for him. Such force he uses to grab a hold of Carl that it causes him to fall back on the floor. Frantically he slips his way backwards, inch by inch upon the slick tile floor while pulling himself up.

Dr. Kibbs follows Carl closely with each sluggish step, real clumsy like, as though he's been drinking. His white lab coat is smeared with blood and hair, and slowly sways with each step he takes. His now gray complexion develops blotches of brown around the rotting portions of his face. Although he has no obvious wounds that can be seen, he seems to be decaying from the inside.

While desperately backing away, Carl tries to reason with the doctor but his cries go ignored. Unaware of what's overcome Dr. Kibbs, he now fears for his own safety. As Carl backs away, a sudden crash of metal is heard as Presley breaks out of his cage. Now frightened, he stands in horror as both the dog and Dr. Kibbs rush towards him.

Carl's body reacts as he quickly turns; shutting the door that now separates them from the front office. He desperately braces himself up against it as Dr. Kibbs tries to breakthrough, forced to endure the sound of Presley's nails scratching at the door. He presses hard up against the wooden barrier, feeling every bang that the doctor makes with his fists upon the door.

A minute goes by and the shaking eventually stops, yet the sound of Dr. Kibbs's breathing is still heard.

Then he hears it, the screams.

The doctor's cries are so frightening and piercing that it causes him let up on the door.

Carl is now forced to make his move, running as fast as he can out of the clinic and towards his car. While out of breath, he locks himself inside and starts up the engine. The low rumble and tremors of the four cylinder engine are minimal compared to how bad his body shakes. Its influence helps clear his mind of his remaining paralysis.

Within moments Carl rests his head on the top of the steering wheel, but become startled yet again by the sight of Presley.

The rabid dog is relentless and continuously rams his face into the window to the left. Blood splatters upon impact and grows larger with each ferocious attempt, eventually cracking the glass while letting blood seep through.

Carl quickly puts the car in reverse and back up over Presley's leg, detached by fear as he instantly hits the vehicle behind him. For a moment he stops to look back at the black SUV he ran into, dreading the repercussions of a hit and run, yet unwilling to linger any longer.

Without warning Presley jumps onto the hood of the car. His right front leg slowly tears from his shoulder as he now attempts to break through the windshield. The amount of blood before Carl is immense; obscuring his vision as the glass slowly begins to give way. Without delay he drives from the parking lot before anymore damage is done, forcing the dog off the hood of the car as he speeds past him.

As Carl leaves the clinic behind, he pulls up to a stop light and uses his windshield wipers to wash the blood away. While still obeying the rules of the road, he waits for the light to turn green. His conscience for whatever reason gets the best of him, as he looks through his rearview mirror and spots Presley yet again.

The son of a bitch runs towards Carl and seems unfazed, his sprint at full speed with now only three legs. Ticket or not there is no fucking way he's sitting through this light. His actions speak louder than words, guided by fear as he makes haste and drives back home.

**10:04 a.m.** and while driving back home and pushing speeds beyond legal limits, Carl thinks of his encounter with Presley. He begins to wonder what exactly happened to the dog, and why he became so ravenous. Let alone be able to run after just losing a limb.

He didn't mean to run over Presley's leg and feels bad about it. But then again, he had to come to work on his day off to take care of that little bastard so fuck him. However he can't believe that Dr. Kibbs tried to attack him. His eyes glared with intent to kill and his movements were without hesitation.

Carl can't imagine what he would have done if the doctor had got a hold of him. He starts to question if Dr. Kibbs was really sick or on drugs, for he sure as hell wasn't dead. His aroma and appearance told Carl different though. His skin, although unscathed, smelled and resembled that of decay.

Carl doesn't know what's going on or let alone where everyone's at, but one thing is for sure and that's to make sure that his parents are alright.

While still trembling, Carl pulls a cigarette from his almost empty pack and fumbles to light it. After some effort, he finally exhales the recent rush of panic that overwhelms him. He slowly begins to calm down, relaxing at the same pace that the smoke exits his lungs. Steady as he may seem, Carl's heart continues to race as he pulls up to the only stop sign on the road yet again.

Carl looks to his left and recognize the broken down truck off to the side of the road. While leaving the car running, he puts it in park and takes a moment to look around. There is no sign of the old man he saw earlier. His surroundings remain calm and quiet, as he gets out and walk towards the truck.

The sky is still overcast and lets off a cool breeze which sends a shiver up Carl's spine. As cold as it is, it is nothing compared to the chill he feels inside. The ongoing fear of the madness he's just endured.

Carl slowly take ten paces towards the white truck and it suddenly hits him. The old man, his demeanor and posture was all fucked up like Dr. Kibbs. Carl instantly feels sick to his stomach as he turns to face his car, the cigarette in-between his lips now trembling with fear. All the signs he overlooked could not prepare him for this. The reality of it all is unreal, as he comes to find the old man sitting in the passenger's seat of his car.

With the door wide open the old man now waits patiently within, his eyes dripping and stained with tears of blood. Carl tries gesturing to him from where he stands but receive nothing in response. His silence, although unnerving, becomes suddenly broken as he starts to twitch. Soon the old man's head begins to shake from side to side, so rapidly that his face is no longer visible. Only the thick strings of blood escaping from his eyes and nose are seen as they spread throughout the car.

A shock of panic immobilizes Carl as it did with Dr. Kibbs. Its sensation keeps him planted as if anchored to the ground. He can't help but stare as the old man convulses and abruptly stops. Carl can feel his gaze upon me, his eyes although dark and distant, still manage to strike fear into his very soul. After close to a minute passes, Carl finally get a grip of himself and realizes that he needs to lure him out.

Without a clue in the world as to what to do next, Carl slowly steps towards the car. His entire body now shivers with fear, which he unwillingly make apparent with each drastic step. The old man's eyes follow Carl's every move as his chest rises with each labored breath. Its frequency increases with his approach at about one hundred breaths per minute.

A deathly grin stretches across his blood streaked face as Carl now draws near. While clearing his throat, Carl tries to wave at him through the driver's side window, but the son of a bitch won't move.

The stench of rotting flesh hits Carl again after getting dangerously close. Its smell is familiar and that of a dead dog left baking out in the hot sun. He's forced to step away as he keeps his eyes fixed on the old man, who's gaze remains ever vigilant and without blinking.

While backing away, Carl nearly trips over a rock the size of a tennis ball. Thinking that he now might be able to draw him out, he picks it up and grips it firmly in his right hand. In a desperate attempt Carl tries to stop himself from trembling with fear. His uncertainty takes hold as he takes a deep breath, wind up, and throws.

The stone quickly connects with the old man and manages to pass through the window, ultimately hitting him in the shoulder. In response he becomes agitated and immediately tries to come at me through the driver's side window.

Then he hears the screams.

They plague Carl like nails on a chalkboard while spewing from the old man.

He watches in terror as the old man frantically worms his way out of the car, forcing himself to collapse onto the road. Carl paralysis fades as he runs to the right side of the broken down truck in an attempt to outfox the old man. Although the old man manages to pull himself up rather quickly, he begins to walk slowly away from Carl's car.

His momentum now builds as he rapidly drags himself towards Carl. With only the truck standing between them, Carl tries to keep a safe distance while making his way around towards his car. The old man growls and screams while staring directly at Carl, all the while he abruptly slams his fist upon the bed of the truck.

Carl now ends up playing pickle with the old man, bobbing from side to side while attempting to throw him off. Eventually his strategy fails as the old man ends up flanking him.

He has no choice but to make a run for it as the old man tries to cut him off. His outreached arms graze the back of Carl's leather jacket as he remains too frightened to scream. Carl approaches his car only to be suddenly caught within the old man's grasp. He panics, and in his state of fright he twists and forces himself loose.

Once inside Carl instantly feels the old man's hand grip around his neck. A stretch of cold and slimy fingers press against his skin, guiding Carl's instincts as he reaches for the car's transmission. The rotting smell of the old man's breath is similar to that of Dr. Kibbs. Its aroma intensifies as he opens his mouth and leans in close. While struggling, Carl pulls away and takes off in his car, relieving the tension he feels as the old man is forced to let go.

He continues to chase after Carl as he drives. His speed is something to be admired, as he now becomes slowly lost in the distance.


	2. Day 1 10:14am

**10:14 a.m.** and Carl arrives at his house in record time to find his parents' cars still at home. He remains in shock from his recent attack. His body quivers with the imprint around his neck, as he exits his car and stumbles his way inside. A dead silence lingers within the house as Carl begins his search; its emptiness surrounding with every door he locks. His concern builds with each disappointment as he desperately tries to find his parents.

Ten minutes fly by and still no sign of Carl's mother or father. He's searched everywhere with the exception of his backyard, which he will not even bother, considering that his dog 'Mountain' is out there.

"Best not to take the chance," he thinks, seeing as how his luck with animals hasn't been very good today.

After finally sealing every entrance, Carl heads towards his bedroom at the far end of the house. His door remains locked like always which is a good sign, and as he makes his way inside he catches a glance of himself in the mirror.

Carl's body still trembles as his neck and scrub top remain stained with blood, along with his jeans which is probably due to the crazed old man or Dr. Kibbs. He slowly strips down to his blue pinstriped boxers and turns on his television and laptop, using the inside of his scrubs to now smear the blood off his body.

The television displays nothing but static and rainbow colored bars that bring about a painful pitch in his ears. The laptop however, continues to boot up as Carl stares at his reflection in the mirror.

He looks frightened. His eyes widely opened to their fullest reveal the blue that makes up his irises. His brown hair remains well kept with the occasional strand that sticks up; in contrast to the dirt that now occupies his face. The blood wiped from his neck now turns his light skin slightly darker, while a few spots still lie etched upon his soft chest.

Carl's breathing remains shallow as he logs into his laptop, and to his disappointment the wireless internet refuses to respond. He tries many attempts to find a connection but ends up failing. He can only assume that the servers must be down, and it isn't until then that he notices that his cell phone no longer has reception.

He is completely cut off.

The filth crusting his body is now unbearable as Carl grabs a towel and heads to his bathroom. While letting hot water runoff the shower, he attempts to call 911 from the house phone. Like before, he is forced to endure a continuous ring without any response.

Steam slowly begins to fill the bathroom and fog the mirror as Carl eases into the shower. Its warmth, along with the water running down his back, gets him to relax, as if put in some sort of trance by the shower. He wastes no time as he douses myself with soap and begins to vigorously scrub. While washing away all the left over blood off his body, he watches it casually smear like oil mixing with water.

The intense heat eventually begins to increase his blood flow as Carl now become overwhelmed with warmth. It's as if he could slowly feel his blood boil within him.

He starts to wonder where his parents are at and if they are alright? It's not like them to up and disappear, and yet them being gone makes him realize that something's gone terribly wrong. He can't help but fear the worst for them as he pulls his face up towards the shower to wash the pain away.

Suddenly, a loud crash is heard as the bathroom door breaks open, Carl's trance soon disrupted by the arrival of a new threat. He remains startled with his back against the wall of the shower, as he unwillingly faces the dark figure ahead, forced to stare at a pair bloody handprints pound and smear on the sliding glass door to his left.

The horror from his vulnerability now brings an unsought paralysis. His eyes then shut as glass sprays before him followed by an outreached arm, covering him yet again in blood. Its fingers bleed and remain punctured as it desperately tries to reach him, causing Carl to now look ahead.

Soon the sight of the blurred figure behind the glass begins to throw its head back, forcing Carl to step as far as he can towards the sliding glass door to his right. His will, although broken, still provides him with the nerve to move.

Within moments, more glass shatters as a head smashes through the door to his left. The terror he feels holds no bounds as Carl then recognizes his father's face, his expression maddening as he smiles. His father, now covered in blood, sheds the same crazed look that Carl's encountered twice today.

Carl now screams s as he watches his father's neck rub against the broken glass. Its edges dig deep into his flesh as he struggles to breakthrough. Carl takes a leap of faith as he grabs the glass door to his right and slides it open, causing his father to get trapped in-between the two doors. He quickly jump out of the shower to get around his father as he screams and breaks free, leaving trails blood and fragments of flesh stuck upon the glass.

Now fearing for his life, Carl runs down the hall and into the kitchen, dripping wet and completely nude, followed closely by the echoing screams. The sound of which is beginning to feel all too familiar.

In a state of panic, Carl pulls out two large kitchen knives from a nearby drawer to arm himself with. The cold air within the house brushing against his damp and naked body finally catches up with him, as he stands with a knife in each hand and waits for his father's next move.

With his teeth chattering Carl begins to feel his eyes flood with tears, as he knows all too well what is going to happen next. Then he sees him, madly running down the hall in uniform while heading straight towards him, the screams now mixed with laughter.

Carl yells and begs for him to stop as he draws near, only to find himself stabbing his father with both knives as he tackles him to the floor, the badge of Rick Grimes now pressing firmly against his chest. His assault on his father, a police officer and man of the law, is now very real.

While on his back Carl comes face to face with his father, the two knives impaling him are all that stand between them. Blood and saliva drips from Rick's mouth and onto Carl's neck and chin as he grabs a hold of his son's head. Carl quickly recognizes the smell, which is that of rotting flesh and blood that seeps as Rick forcefully pulls his head back.

His father is a big man, and although average in height, he makes up for it in mass.

He overpowers Carl easily.

As Carl struggles to break free, his leg carelessly slips which causes Rick's knee to smash his groin against the tile floor. The sharp and unbearable pain instantly rushes and fills his body with rage.

Now furious, Carl twists the knives within his father's stomach so that they don't move, and pushes him off. The excruciating pain still lingers as he pulls myself up and grabs his crotch in hopes to numb the pain. All the while Rick gets back on his feet and lunges at Carl once more. With only the extreme pain fueling him, Carl reaches for the knives embedded in his father's gut and throws him aside, causing Rick to fall back onto the floor.

A memory flashes before Carl of a time he stole his father's gun while camping with some friends. The thought of which gives him purpose, as he now storms into his parents' room and lock the doors behind him.

Carl frantically opens Rick's sock drawer and scrambles through everything inside, revealing the Colt Python .357 Magnum. It lies before him waiting, beckoning him name while followed closely by the screams.

As Carl pulls it out, he gets a feel for its weight and gets reacquainted. Its intimidating shine helps soothe his fear as Rick suddenly breaks through, forcing him to take aim. While hoping to God that it's loaded, Carl trembles to hold it up as he opens fire.

He instantly takes Rick down with two shots to his right leg, feeling the unexpected recoil of the magnum's blast. Still in shock, his body overwhelms him with hesitation as he trembles with fear.

Carl slowly steps back as Rick continues to drag himself towards him, his right hand constantly clutching at the wind. Still hell bent on killing him, the knives embedded in Rick's gut pull their way further down and begin tearing him open. Carl holds the magnum with both hands to keep it steady, yet it still trembles, and with his eyes flooded with tears, he aims for his father's face.

His hesitation builds with each passing second, creating fear and doubt as Carl now closes his eyes, thinks of a better place, and squeezes the trigger.

Carl opens his eyes to see what remains of Rick lying before him, his body surrounded by blood and fragments of his skull.

He lies there… lifeless, his blood absorbed by the white carpet around him. His face is no longer recognizable by the .357 round that completely disfigured him. Carl drops to his knees and begins to sob, trying to hold back the tears in front of his father even though he's dead. As he sits there, now wet and streaked with blood, sobbing while still naked, he makes an attempt to pull himself together.

After awhile Carl has no more tears to spare as he pulls himself up. He can't help but wonder how someone could still be moving after getting stabbed in the stomach twice, let alone getting shot in the leg. He comes to realize that the only thing that stopped Rick was a bullet to the head.

The pain from his crotch has greatly subsided as Carl is relieved to see that no serious damage is done. The fear of it all begs him to move, as he comes to find only three more bullets left in Rick's sock drawer, which he takes for his own.

Carl now walks to his room again, leaving a trail of bloody foot prints behind while replacing the three missing rounds in his magnum. His sadness overwhelms his current pain as he feels the sudden craving for a cigarette. Once inside, Carl closes the door to his room and tosses the gun on his bed, using another towel to smear the blood off him yet again.

He can't help but think about what has happened and what he's done. He just killed a man. He killed his father. He questions if there was anything different he could have done, although all scenarios point to the same conclusion. Rick's attack was rabid and fierce, his intent made clear by his mere gaze. Carl's imagination runs wild with the possibilities of what it all means. It all happened so fast that he's surprised it turned out the way it did.

A quick and dreadful end to what should have been an everlasting bond.

No longer feeling safe at his house, Carl makes a plan to find somewhere to lay low. The severity of it all seems unreal and only encourages his denial. He now very slowly slides on a pair of blue jeans along with a black undershirt, preparing his leave as he grabs his camping bag from the closet. He makes sure pack the essentials within his bag: a few extra pairs of pants, two white and black undershirts, thermals, socks, boxers, tooth paste, tooth brush, soap, and his leather jacket.

As Carl walks into the garage he sees Rick's red V8 Silverado waiting quietly in the darkness. Not a second passes that Carl decides to ditch his shitty compact and claim the truck as his own. He then opens its door to find its keys laying for him inside. Relieved that he won't have to visit his father's corpse again, he begins loading his camping bag in the truck along with a case of bottled waters.

While back in his room, Carl picks up Rick's gun and takes a moment to examine it. His brown hair now hangs low off his head as he holds back the demise of his father. His untimely end at his hands makes Carl not want to think about his mother. The thought of Lori becoming crazed and trying to kill him is unimaginable, for Carl doesn't think he would have it in him to fight her off. Which now makes him question as to why this is happening? How his old man could attack him with such rage?

Two cigarettes are now left in his pack as Carl sparks one up and sits on his bed, wondering as to what to do next. The buzz of nicotine rushes up his head as he stands and wedges the magnum in-between his belt. He prepares his leave like he would any other day in an attempt to maintain his sanity. He grabs his wallet, applies some deodorant, puts on his black wrist watch, and takes his phone.

While back in his father's truck, Carl starts up the engine and opens the garage door. Its unlubricated track screeches as its steel frame slowly lifts and sheds light to the darkness around him.

**12:05 p.m.** and as he backs out of my driveway, Carl endures the sound of static from the stereo. He thinks of how irritating this will eventually become, and as he puts the truck in park, he remembers that his MP3 player is still in his car.

While leaving the engine running, Carl hops out and walks into the garage and back towards his room again. Once inside, he puts out his cigarette and grabs the car keys that remain on his bed. While taking a moment to look through his bedroom window, he stops in horror at what lies await.

Carl's eyes deceive him as he reluctantly stares at Jimmy, the six year old boy that lives next door, now sluggishly walking towards his truck. Just like the old man, the boy walks off balance, only this time he drags a large red fire axe behind him. In hopes that he doesn't go after his tires, Carl rushes out of his room and back into the garage.

Without giving a second thought, Carl draws the boy's attention as the door slams shut behind him. Unaware of what he fears most, the child or what might transpire, the vivid imagery of what Carl's witnessed now takes its toll as Jimmy slowly walks towards him.

Slight twitches force his head to jerk to the left as he continues to drag the axe behind him. The boy's pace quickens as Carl call his name, the sound of the axe dragging now intensifying. His face is completely covered with dry blood, which abruptly chips away as his head randomly twitches.

With his right hand, Carl holds on to the magnum wedged within his belt, unwillingly bracing himself as the boy approaches the garage door.

His body freezes again.

Unable to force himself to shoot the boy, Carl continues to shout at Jimmy to put the axe down. The boy's black eyes with surrounding redness begin to bring back bad memories, visions of the hell he's encountered so far. While now five feet away Jimmy screams and grabs the axe behind him, holding it with both hands as he maintains eye contact, and swings.

Carl's reflexes kick in as he leans back and feel the clean swipe of the air getting sliced inches from his face. The boy's upward swing leaves him vulnerable as Carl quickly kicks him to the ground. Now screaming, Jimmy continues to struggle and grab at Carl's leg while he has him pinned to the floor, his eyes never seeming to leave his sight.

Within his efforts, Carl slowly reaches down and picks up the axe with his right hand while keeping the boy at bay. His resemblance is no longer that of the kid who played soccer in front of his house. Hate and fury are all that is expressed as Carl raises the axe high over his head.

The boy's screams are now cut short. He falls silent by the heel of the axe that Carl brought down upon his face, eliminating all sense of consciousness in the boy. Whatever madness has befallen the world seems to have sunken low enough to effect children, an atrocity to the fact that Jimmy was so young and innocent.

While almost forgetting why he's outside, Carl quickly unlocks his car and grabs his MP3 player from the center console.

He can't help but question if he should lock Jimmy up somewhere, as he takes a moment to observe the boy. Looking far less threatening now that he is unconscious, Carl can't help but feel remorse for him. He thinks about doing the humane thing and putting the boy out of his misery. Similar to his old job where he or Dr. Kibbs would put an old dog or cat to sleep that no longer had the will to live. Nevertheless, he cannot and will not bring myself to kill the boy.

After placing his newly acquired axe in the passenger seat of Rick's truck, Carl continues to back out of the driveway. While coasting through his neighborhood, he drives in hopes to find someone who hasn't gone insane, desperately looking for answers, yet realizing that he's dangerously low on gas.

The streets remain empty as Carl slowly drives towards the gas station near his house, in hopes that his presence goes unnoticed. Within three miles he arrives, only to find himself feeling more alone than ever.

Evidence of chaos and unforeseen panic litters the streets along with the gas station he pulls into. A vast wreckage covers the entire parking lot of the plaza ahead. A sea of cars smashed against one another remains abandoned with a few of their doors left ajar.

Carl pulls up to pump number seven and slide his credit card through its automated cashier. While pumping gas, he can't help but stare at the large convenience store beyond the sea of wrecked cars ahead. Its ruins, although near, failed to reach the gas station as its distance lies across the plaza. The cluster of vehicles creates a sort of maze that reveals only a few openings within the parking lot. Beyond the metallic labyrinth lies John's Club, a large fortress like store which towers over the cars below.

Fearing the odds of running into another crazed person, Carl begins to make my way towards the gas station. While leaving the truck to fill up with fuel, he stares up at the cloudy purple sky which glooms above. Their longing for sunlight now matches his despair.

As Carl approaches the entrance, a pair of automated glass doors calmly slide open to reveal a trail of blood. His heart races at the sight that leads towards the cashier's desk to his right. He treads lightly once he enters the store and steadies his breathing, pulling out his magnum while now following the blood. Shredded magazines and broken potato chips litter the floor as he carefully scan his surroundings. The randomness of the destruction around him is without purpose, for if it had one, it was to merely make a mess of things.

As Carl reaches the cashier's counter, he makes his way around and become stunned at what lies on the floor.

Nausea hits him again as Carl comes to find a pair of legs torn from its occupant's body. The grotesque sight fills him with terror. He takes a closer look to see that it is the waist and bottom half of a woman, for its torso and upper body are nowhere to be found. Red velvet high heels are all that occupies the naked limbs as they lie sprawled out before him. The sight, although revolting, seems less threatening as he slowly steps towards them and lowers his aim.

The floor remains covered in blood which has clotted and formed a gelatin that gets dragged along his shoes. While trying his hardest not to pay attention to what lies below, Carl starts to grab cartons of cigarettes and sets them on the counter behind him. With a plastic bag he begins to place his supplies inside, as he now stand with the corpse's limbs spread across his feet. He gathers about twenty lighters and a lot of gum and places them in his bag, and takes a moment to look out the window to see that his truck is still waiting outside.

Blood slowly smears down his pants as Carl feels something wet and warm rub up against him. His jaw suddenly locks and he begins trembling again, as he now fears what he is feeling. Carl looks down and becomes stricken with horror to find the severed legs and hips grinding up and down his left leg. It movements are slow yet vigorous as its hips gain momentum. Its blood splattered thighs begin to squeeze and hug on his leg, its desire slowly causing its calf to wrap around his. The moisture he feels is warm as well as cool, its skin hot from the friction while its excrements remain cold.

Unable to bear it any longer, Carl vomits on the naked limbs and kicks them aside, causing them to slide across the floor near the wall a few feet away. The woman's torn waist struggles to get up as he watches its legs spread and lift in the air. The sight and pigmentation of its ulcerated thighs and vulva causes him to vomit again.

With a loud clank it plants its high heels on the bloody floor and attempts to raise its hips at him, unable to maintain as it slips uncontrollably. While wiping the vomit off his chin, Carl grabs his bag and runs over to the refrigerators to get some water. Unable to stop from dry heaving, the accumulating vomit never ends and causes him to run out of the store.

The sound of the naked limbs struggling is heard as he makes his escape. While setting his bag of supplies in Rick's truck, Carl quickly replace the gas pump and start up the engine. He begins breathing heavily as his widened eyes reflect off the rearview mirror. His stomach feels scrambled as the thought of being molested again by half a woman runs through his mind.

Carl soon realizes that it doesn't take a genius to know what he's up against. He's seen plenty of horror films and if these people aren't the living dead, then he's completely lost his mind. Yet he can't help but wonder why this is happening and most importantly, why he's still alive? He questions if it is possible that he could have slept through all the chaos that was happening Sunday night? He remains stuck with questions without answers, and now forced to admit that his family is truly dead.


	3. Day 1 12:45pm

**12:45 p.m.** and Carl still has close to six hours until it gets dark. He thinks about everyone he knew and cared about and hopes that they're alright. For whatever started all of this seemed to have rid his home of any existence. Then it hits him, that maybe it's just his town that is infested with the undead. It's a long shot, and an unlikely one, but he's no longer left with many options.

With his mind still in denial, Carl shifts his truck to drive and heads towards the freeway. The streets are a mess with shattered glass and wrecked cars as he makes his way down Fragile Road. Ignoring the rules of the road he makes a fifteen minute drive in about half the time, using all lanes to avoid broken down cars and numerous corpses lying about. The ruins of the city and its desertion distract him from the road as he's suddenly forced to stop.

Carl exits his truck at the arrival of the freeway heading south. The smell of burnt rubber and oil flows from the sight of the on-ramp, which is completely blocked. Piles upon piles of cars remain stacked atop one another. Their numbers somewhere in the twenties, reveal an impenetrable wall of rust which delays his escape.

Carl pulls out the last cigarette from his pack and lights it as he examines the wreckage. From the looks of the damage, it seems that everyone rushed into the on-ramp at the same time in a state of panic, causing a chain reaction that totaled every car entering the freeway.

While taking notice to all the luggage and corpses that occupy them, Carl starts to wonder how the hell he could have slept through it all. He can't even remember what he did yesterday. Other than tending to Presley in the morning, everything else seems a blur.

Unable to bear the sight of burnt women and children, Carl takes off in his truck and heads towards the next on-ramp which heads north. The northbound exit is not nearly as blocked as the one going south, so much that he's able to squeeze through the rubble in his truck.

Carl's now finally able breathe as he accelerates on the freeway heading north. Its obstacles are few as he makes his way around forgotten vehicles and tattered limbs. His only problem is that he needs to be heading south.

Carl drives for about ten minutes until the freeway runs along its opposite side. It doesn't take long before he finds opening and drives across a patch of grass that separates both roads. He now heads south and can only hope that the road ahead remains clear.

**1:32 p.m.** as Carl pulls out another smoke and lights it. His cravings for cigarettes have doubled in the past few hours than they have since he was a teenager. He slowly exhales the sweet, sweet, smoke from his nose and thinks about his bad habit, which now seems bleak. For in reality, he would much rather die from cigarettes as opposed to being eaten alive.

The day is still overcast with the same purple clouds that stretch across the sky while heading south. The freeway, although less cluttered, remains splattered with corpses ripped apart and tossed throughout the road.

Carl needs to go somewhere safe and familiar, for his poor father is dead and he can only assume that his mother shared his fate. He plans to visit the only family he has left, his father's old friend, Shane. Shane's house lies an hour south of Carl's parents' home in the city of Santee. He made the choice to sell drugs out of his house, which was always a very secure place for his lifestyle, which ultimately lead to his and Rick's falling out.

Carl always loved his uncle Shane and if anyone could survive this nightmare it would be him. Carl's excitement for seeing Shane blinds him from the fact that he might not be alive anymore. Regardless of what happens when he arrives, it's the only place he has left to go. The constant surveillance of Shane's house will help him sleep at night, not to mention the weapons he has. If he's lucky enough, Carl might be able to find an arms dealer or a sporting goods store; somewhere to get more rounds for his magnum and maybe a few more guns.

Nature eventually calls as Carl pulls to a stop in the middle of the road so that he can take a piss. While walking to the edge of the freeway, which is now suspended by a bridge, he begins to see fires brewing throughout the city before him. Black smoke creeps up and paints the sky dark as the town below him lies in ruins.

As he urinates off the edge of the freeway, Carl watches the flames consume a nearby shopping plaza, his attention now drawn to the vast number of people walking the streets below. Over a hundred of them continue to wander the city's ruins, each of them stumbling while tripping over themselves. Grown men, women, and children roam freely while bearing the mark of the undead. Most of them feast on corpses lying about, while the rest walk aimlessly while carrying their meals.

As he finishes relieving himself Carl takes a moment to observe, in hopes of finding someone who hasn't turned undead. His chest caves in and the air grows thin as he soon realizes that his uncle is probably gone, if not one of these monsters already.

Carl light up another cigarette and continues to watch the undead.

Hunger seems to be what drives these monsters. A sick need to feed causes some of them to eat their own limbs and flesh. They also seem to feel no pain, for every other one he looks at suffers terrible injuries. Some go about their business with an arm torn off or missing a hand or part of their stomach, along with the occasional few that drag themselves with their legs missing. Apparently their limbs can also remain animated as he's learned earlier today.

While taking the last few drags of his smoke, Carl thinks of how the whole world must be affected by this plague. The thought of which is something he cannot bear, as he now flicks his cigarette down below with the rest of the monsters, and takes off.

**2:45 p.m.** as Carl approaches the exit that leads to Shane's house. Lucky for him the off-ramp isn't blocked at all, as he slowly makes his way through the industrial part of town. The city of Santee lies in ruins as well. Bad memories loom in the air while passing the destruction around him. Debris floods the streets along with a few wandering figures in the distance.

Within a few blocks from his destination Carl tries to give Shane a call, but still no signal, his attention then drawn to the sight of three women feasting on a corpse in the intersection ahead.

Fear consumes Carl once again, yet as he hesitates, he unwillingly presses on the gas and drives faster.

He doesn't know why he's doing this or what's come over him. Any and all second thoughts are now gone as Carl reaches the point of no return.

The V8 engine roars with its acceleration as Carl closes in on the undead. Suddenly one of the women looks up at the truck, blood dripping from her nose and chin while the other two are face first in the corpse's stomach. They seem frantic with their food, constantly nudging one another away from their meal.

Carl quickly braces himself by holding tight on the steering wheel. His mind suddenly consumed by guilt and the impending repercussions as he plows through the undead.

Blood instantly covers the windshield and blinds Carl while now forced to pull to a screeching stop. He exits the truck in a state of shock and paranoia. Its sensation causes him to pause and look around before grabbing the axe he acquired earlier. While using its reach, Carl cringes as he pulls the severed torso of one of the women off the hood of the truck. Its corpse falls onto the street and lays lifeless as he move on to the remaining two.

The woman who looked up at Carl before the impact is now dead. Her body lies with her head completely removed after the truck's grill tore her apart. Only one survives as she now struggles to pull herself up. The screeching sound of her screams draws needless attention as Carl approaches and winds his axe back.

His body tells him to swing but his conscience says otherwise, the thought of what he just did still corrupting his mind. Their eyes connect and Carl sees the smooth portions of chewed up organs that hang from her teeth and hair. The horror he feels from the grotesque sight and screams, suddenly fills his body with grief as he's forced to swing.

Silence now surrounds Carl as his axe lies embedded halfway through the woman's neck. His hands still tremble with fear as blood continues to spray after having to pry it out. Once free, the woman begins to scream while her head hangs low like a PEZ dispenser. Her cries, now deafening, cause Carl to wince along with her gaze that pushes him away. With one deep breath Carl overcomes his terror, putting an end to her suffering with one final swing of his axe.

His body still trembles as he hyperventilates. The time he takes to think, along with the cigarettes in between, finally gets him to calm down and come to terms with what just happened. After cleaning his windshield with a bottle of water, Carl wastes no time to get back on the road again.

The nicotine swirling in his lungs helps him cope as Carl thinks about what he just did. He's now killed again. Only this time it was three women. The feeling is such that he cannot bear its vivid imagery, for the sound of their screams still haunts him. He doesn't know if he has it in him to do it again, let alone face whatever lies await. For all he knows this could all just be a dream, an epic nightmare to which he'll wait to awake from.

**3:02 p.m.** as Carl arrives at Shane's house and approach the front door. Carl's always had a key to Shane's place in case he needed somewhere to stay, which works wells on the first lock. The second, however, is a digital combination. The pass code proves no problem as it has always been his mother's date of birth, which he supposes helped Shane remember her birthday.

As Carl opens the front door he recognizes the camera posted near the keypad. He recalls how Shane was a pretty paranoid guy, yet he supposes years of being strung out on drugs would do that to you. Considering that he sold mostly weed nowadays, Shane promised Carl's parents and him that he'd been clean and stopped using hard drugs, but his father never forgave him. Although by the looks of security, it seems that old habits die hard.

After setting his bag of supplies on the floor, Carl takes a moment to scan his surroundings. He thinks to himself that Shane's folly is his advantage, as he locks myself inside, readies his magnum, and begins to search for Shane.

The air within is thick and humid as Carl slowly paces himself through the living room. Its feeling is such that it causes him to sweat. The house itself is a complete mess with various signs of struggle. Its evidence lies among the numerous holes in the walls and trash lying about.

Suddenly, the sound of music is heard and begins to echo around him. Carl follow its call as it now leads him towards Shane's bedroom.

While holding on tight to his magnum, Carl walks down a narrow hall and stumbles upon some powder. The white dust lies in a small pile and makes a trail that leads towards Shane's room. The door itself is closed and smeared with bloody hand prints and strands of hair. For whatever reason, Carl bends down to scoop a small portion of the powder and gives it a taste.

It's cocaine.

The familiar flavor of its bitter sweet richness is reminiscent of a time long since past. He continues to rub some more on his gums and begins to feel his mouth grow numb. Its taste, along with its sense of enlightenment, makes him now realize what might have happened here.

The rotten smell of death hits him in waves as Carl opens the door to find Shane's corpse lying before him. His body is still and stiff, resting comfortably on his bed with massive amounts of cocaine covering his lips and nose. All the while his eyes remain fixed towards the ceiling.

A black rubber tube used as a tourniquet is tied around his left arm, along with a depleted three milliliter syringe that sticks out his vein. Carl now feels out of breath again, stricken by the sight of Shane's overdose. He didn't know what to expect once he'd arrive, but certainly not this.

After a while of staring at his blank expression, Carl begins to get the gist of what happened. Although he forces a smile, he does feel happy for Shane as he removes the syringe and tourniquet from his arm. He's glad that Shane did not meet his end like his poor parents did; that he chose to end his life the way he wanted to, and not at the hands of the undead.

The haunting sound of "Nutshell" by Alice In Chains now ends and changes to one of Shane's favorite glam rock tracks. Its drastic transition proves unnecessary towards the current mood and state of affairs. For the best thing about Shane was given his rough exterior, he had little regard for his questionable taste in music and style.

Carl pulls a pillow over Shane's face and presses the barrel of his gun upon it. He doesn't want to disgrace his uncle's death, but at the same time he can't take any chances. The cocaine, however, helps with my emotions, balancing Carl's sadness and loneliness with a strong sense of euphoria. Its numbing sensation causes a string of saliva to drip from his mouth as he pulls the trigger.

Small pieces of cotton now flutter around Carl as the gunshot becomes muffled by the pillow. Its noise, although concealed, still brings about an aching pain in his chest. With the overwhelming feeling of guilt and shame, Carl reluctantly covers Shane's body with his white bed sheet.

The smell of Shane's corpse no longer bothers him as he lies next to him and has a smoke.

His mouth still numb makes this cigarette all the more sweeter.


End file.
